Pets, Photography

A sphere of simple green

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Harriet enjoyed herself while I mowed. It’s nice to have a dog who can be outside with me while I’m working. With Elliott, I always had to worry about what he was up to. He was just as apt to get in the way of the mower, or plop himself down where he was in danger of flying rocks, as he was to tunnel out while I wasn’t watching. Harriet, though, does none of those things. Instead, she runs around, doing the butt-tuck-zippy-zoomies with an ecstatic expression on her face. When she runs out of steam, she flings herself to the ground and flops around on her back, like a long-legged trout. Harriet, thankfully, prefers to roll in freshly mown grass instead of dead animals. I dodged a bullet there. Not only does she come up smelling, if not like a daisy, then of hay, but she also is quite entertaining in the process. I win!

I took the above pictures while I was mowing the section outside the dog yard. Harriet wasn’t too amused with that. She doesn’t like being locked in while I’m out. She paced and whined for a bit, then gave up and grazed on the tall grass along the fence. Apparently, the very tenderest blade was juuust beyond her reach. At one point, a rabbit ran across the driveway. Harriet turned on the charm, hoping, no doubt, that if she produced the correct rabbit call, it would hop into her waiting mouth. I tried to tell her that it doesn’t work that way, but she was unfazed.

Crankypantsing

Crankypantsing, the Early Bird Edition

I somehow managed to get to work 20 minutes early this ayem. Some employers might find that to be commendable, but not, apparently, mine. As soon as I sat down, a coworker barrelled over to me to explain why I shouldn’t be here. “Duh,” says I. “I know there is a ‘no working before 6am’ rule. And, guess what? I’m not working! In fact, I’m screwing around. You see, when one commutes, one cannot necessarily control the time at which one arrives at one’s destination. One is just as apt to arrive 20 minutes late as 20 minutes early. Usually, lateness wins out, but occasionally, earliness triumphs. Get over it. And, you aren’t the boss of me. Neener-neener.”

What-the-fuck-EVAR!

Irony aside (what was she doing here at that unholy hour, hm?), what business is it of hers? I’ve discussed my schedule with my supervisor. She understands the vagaries of commuting, as she, too, lives out in the country. I’ve explained that many days I’ll be late, and a few days I’ll be early. On the days I’m early, I promise I won’t do any work before the appointed time, because I’d hate to invoke the wrath of the union-to-which-I-do-not-belong.

After a mere two hours of sleep, I’m in serious “kiss my ass” mode.